Weak
by Nyzoe
Summary: What really happened between Snape and Tonks the evening she accompanied Harry to Hogwarts? A story of disappointment, shattered innocence and last hopes. Not exactly SSNT.
1. Conscience

Note:

This is my very first fanfic, constructive criticism is more than welcome. Also, English is not my native language, so please feel free to point out any blatant grammar/style/spelling errors by reviewing or emailing and I promise I'll do better in the future.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.. as if you didn't know.

* * *

**1. Conscience**

_  
She deserves an Outstanding_.

He hesitated, his quill motionless in mid-air. He recognized the nagging voice in the back of his head: it always seemed to speak up just as he had finally convinced himself that he had been able to silence it for good. Moreover, it always picked the wrong moments.

For Severus Snape, who, seconds ago, didn't need to think twice about writing down an utterly unfair 'E' (it wasn't as if he hadn't done that before with other students that annoyed him), shuddered at the idea of having to put up with Nymphadora Tonks in his Advanced Potions class. The very way she looked was offensive – her hair and eyes changing almost daily to new, clashing, eye-hurting colours that completely disrupted the quiet, dark atmosphere of his beloved dungeons – the way she couldn't enter the room and get to her desk without accidentally kicking over at least two chairs or cauldrons – everything in her manner seemed to speak disregard for him. The fact that once she was bent over her cauldron, subtly stirring its contents, her clumsiness and loudness seemed to have disappeared completely, somehow only made it worse. Was it because occasionally, he couldn't restrain himself from being fascinated by the sight?

He couldn't care less about her ambitions to become an Auror. She'd probably be quick to change her mind once she found out it wasn't in the least the glamourous job she probably expected. She was so naïve – what would she know about darkness, loneliness, distrust, hurt? The Dark Lord might be dead, but even from beyond the grave he knew how to keep his followers bound to him. Snape snorted. He'd do her a favour by not allowing her to take her NEWT… and yet he couldn't bring himself to write down that 'E'.

He hated to admit it, but she had passed both the theoretical and practical part of the OWL-exam with only a few minor errors. She deserved an 'O', so much was clear.

Finally, cursing his weakness through gritted teeth, the Potions Master wrote down the mark that would sentence him to two more years with Nymphadora Tonks.

* * *

'Nymphie, just sit down,' her father, who was drinking tea at the kitchen table, said gently. 'The post won't go faster with you waiting for it at the window all the time.' 

'I know, but I can pretend it will. And don't call me Nymphie,' she added out of habit, though she really didn't expect him to ever drop her childhood nickname.

'Why don't you just sit down and have tea with me?'

'Dad, you do realize this is my career we're talking about? All my dreams and plans about to either come true or be, you know, _poof_, just like that?'

'My dear, I'm almost as nervous as you are, you know that… But I also know that you're the cleverest witch I ever met and that it would take a miracle for you to fail your favourite subjects.'

'Are you even taking me seriously?'

'Well, maybe I know one or two witches who…'

Tonks, finally turning her back to the window, sighed heavily. 'I'm not putting up a show or something. I know I'm not stupid. I'm sure I got at least 'Exceeds Expectations' in Defence Against The Dark Arts and Charms… and I'm really hoping for 'Outstanding' in Transfiguration… it's just, I'm not sure about Potions. Snape allows only those with the highest possible mark to take his NEWT-class. And Snape is a greasy…'

'Nymphadora,' said her father warningly.

'Ok, ok, _Professor_ Snape is not exactly notable for his fairness and unprejudiced attitude. And he hates me. How would you like it if someone was constantly making sarcastic remarks about the way you looked? As if _he_ looks even remotely attractive!'

'I can actually imagine he has some trouble getting used to, well, at least _some_ of the things you do to your hair…'

'He thinks I'm inferior to the rest of the family because my father is a Muggle-born and I'm not in Slytherin!'

Ted Tonks felt his grip on his teacup tighten. The mention of his wife's family always made him feel like saying or doing some very unpleasant things that he wouldn't want his sixteen-year-old daughter to witness. From the moment Andromeda had announced her engagement with Ted, she'd been dead to them – with one exception, her cousin Sirius Black, who in the end, however, (Ted shuddered) had proved himself to be no different from the rest of them. None of them had attended their marriage, except again for Sirius (Andromeda's uncle Alphard had sent his congratulations by owl). Whenever he brought the subject up to her, Andromeda merely used to shrug, saying she hadn't expected it to be any different and that she'd never been able to stand her sisters anyway – but he knew it had hurt her, and it was hurting her still.

_His beautiful daughter inferior to those arrogant, inbred –_

He recollected himself. 'Did he say so literally?'

'Well, maybe not really, I mean, not about you being a Muggle-born… He can't say things like that in public, of course… but he does make a point of constantly reminding me of the fact that the only other Black who didn't end up in Slytherin turned out to be an insane mass-murderer.'

'I see,' said Ted weakly. 'What I meant to say was, well, he's still a professor who deserves some respect.'

For a second Tonks, who was a little red in the face, looked as if she planned to vividly describe to her father exactly how much respect she had for Severus Snape, but she remained silent. A thoughtful look appeared on her heart-shaped face. 'Actually,' she said, 'in my first few years at Hogwarts, I thought he was pretty cool. You know, the kind of guy who just doesn't care about what others think, who just goes his own way. I thought his whole behaviour was, well, some kind of joke, that he did it to put us to the test and that he'd end up treating us normally. But he never did. I really was prepared to respect him, to like him even. But you can't really say he earned it, can you?'

Before Ted could answer, they heard the sound of something ticking against the window. It was a small, brown owl carrying a very official-looking parchment envelope. Tonks screamed and jumped towards the window to open it, knocking over some of the potted plants on the windowsill in the process.

It took her a couple of minutes to untie the envelope from the leg of the owl, but finally she was able to open it. With trembling fingers, she took out the parchment inside and unfolded it.

The next moment, she almost knocked over the teapot in her haste to show the letter to her father. 'Dad!' she screamed. 'Look! I did it! I'm going to be an Auror!'

* * *

That night, Severus Snape dreamt about his parents. When he awoke in his small, gloomy bedroom, bathing in sweat, it took him a few seconds to realize his hands were clenched into fists so tightly it hurt. 

'Why?' he had been yelling to his mother, his voice high-pitched and trembling (he had hated himself for sounding like that). 'Why do you allow him to do this to you? Why don't you just…' _take out your wand and blast him to smithereens_, he wanted to say, but something in his mother's eyes had held him back, '…leave him? He's just a worthless Muggle, anyway…'

'Don't say that, Severus,' his mother had said, almost in a whisper.

'Why are you so weak? You're so much more powerful than him! Aren't you proud of what you are?'

'Sev…'

'Why? _Why_?'

She had cried then, hiding her face in her hands. 'You wouldn't understand.'

'Try me!'

'Because he is the only man who has ever made me feel special,' she said after a moment. She looked up, her tear-stained face carrying a strangely determined look.

'Because I love him.'

_The weak hold on to love because they can't face life on their own._

_I will… be strong. Ever._

* * *

Another Author's Note: Yes, I know OWLs are not graded by the Hogwarts teachers themselves. I just didn't remember until I had finished the first couple of paragraphs and I didn't feel like rewriting everything. Let's just say the Wizarding Examinations Authority didn't yet exist at the time. Oh… and I'd really feel flattered if you left a review, so I can decide whether to continue with this story (though I probably will, no matter what you guys write). By the way, if you like fluffy happy love stories, well… I do too, but this isn't going to be one. 


	2. Accio

Thanks for the reviews people! You really made me happy :)

I've decided to keep chapters short so I can update regularly, considering the fact that I'm not a very fast writer and tend to endlessly rewrite parts when I have the chance to reread them too often. Expect updates at least once every week. And now, without further ado, the second chapter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling still owns Harry Potter; a situation unlikely to change.

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**2 Accio**

There were only seven people in Snape's Advanced Potions class, of which three were Slytherins; then there was one girl from Hufflepuff, one Gryffindor and two Ravenclaws: Tonks herself and Brian Harris, a rather introverted boy who, without knowing, had become rather famous among his yearmates for loudly singing in the shower when he thought nobody was around to hear.

'Wotcher, Brian,' she said, taking a seat next to him. 'Something wrong? You look ever so pale.'

'I forgot to bring my book,' whispered Brian, who was rummaging through the contents of his schoolbag.

'Oh, well, _that's_ not much of a problem,' Tonks said confidently, pulling out her wand from her sleeve and flicking it.

'Don't – ' Brian began, but it was too late.

'_Accio_ Brian's Potions book!'

For some time, everything was quiet, while Brian looked at the open classroom door fearfully. He wasn't sure whether he had imagined the noise and angry voices far away in the castle. Tonks, however, had a self-satisfied look on her face. She had practiced long-distance Summoning a lot last year, and she rather liked the chance of impressing her new classmates with it.

The door in front of the classroom opened and Snape entered the dungeon, looking exactly the same as ever, his black hair perpetually shoulder-length and contempt etched in every line of his sallow face.

'Good morning, Professor,' piped up one of the Slytherins.

'Please, don't bother,' said Snape sarcastically. 'I can't possibly see what's good about…'

There was a swooshing sound as Brian's copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ came sailing at full speed through the open door. Brian whimpered and dived under his desk. Snape turned around in search for the source of the sound a fraction of a second before the book hit him square in the face.

The Potions Master stumbled backwards, clutching his nose, until he collided with his desk behind him and eventually managed to regain his balance. The book continued the last part of its flight somewhat groggily and finally, with fluttering pages, came to a rest on Tonks' desk.

The whole class held in their breath, including Brian, who had emerged from under his desk again and looked white as a corpse. Snape, still remarkably calm although there was now blood dripping out from under his hand and his breath made a horrible gurgling noise, stood up straight, turned his back to the class, took out his wand, muttered '_Episkey_' and '_Tergeo_', tucked back his wand, and finally turned around, his black eyes blazing.

Tonks swallowed.

'Miss Tonks,' said Snape in an icy voice, and then, finally loosing his calmth, he barked: '_Detention_!'

'Yes sir,' Tonks said meekly.

'Now, what are you all staring at?' Snape sneered at the rest of the class. 'Take out your books, now, and take care not to murder anyone in the process.'

At once, there was more coughing and shuffling of feet and scraping of chairs than you'd ever expect out of seven people. Tonks thought she heard a stifled laugh somewhere out of the direction of the Gryffindor boy, but by the time Snape had turned his head, his face was straight as ever.

'Now,' said Snape, 'I suppose it won't be necessary to say that I have trouble to believe all of you made it through your OWL-exams without cheating. Though I'm used to my students resembling a bunch of Neanderthals, the next two years will, nevertheless, be dedicated to _advanced_ potion-making. You will be required to do things perfectly. To thoroughly convince you of the importance of this, I will ask you regularly to test your results on yourself or a classmate. This has led to some rather unpleasant incidents in the past, so I advice you to take this class deadly serious.' He paused for a moment to magnify the effect of his words, and indeed the class looked increasingly uncomfortable.

'The other aim of this advanced class is to increase your understanding of the workings of different potions and ingredients. At the end of your seventh year, you will be required to brew a potion of your own invention with an objectively perceiveable effect and write an accompanying essay clarifying what you did and why. Those who fail this assignment will not be allowed to take their NEWT-exam.

Now, you can spend the rest of the time making the Ageing Potion you find at page seventeen of your book. Next week, each of you will hand in an essay discussing the exact role each ingredient plays in this potion and what would be likely to happen if you changed its quantity. Of course, you will display a clear understanding of all the mechanisms involved. Now, get to work. And before I forget, I'm expecting you' – he looked ominously at Tonks – 'in my office at noon this Saturday.'

* * *

When she entered the Great Hall for lunch later that day, she found that lots of students turned in their seats to look at her, most of them grinning approvingy. Blushing slightly, she joined her yearmates at the Ravenclaw table. 

'Great Summoning Charm, Tonks,' said her best friend Circe Cristopher, poking her in the side.

'How do you know? How does _everyone_ know?'

'Sylvan Appleby told his Gryffindor friends and then word got around quickly. It wish I'd been there! It must've been hilarious.'

'Strange, that was not at all what I thought when I saw all the blood and brains.'

Circe giggled. 'Snapeish sarcasm isn't really your thing, you know.'

'But still. And I was just hoping – honestly – that Snape and I would get on a little better this year. It's not that great to be stuck for four hours a week with a teacher that hates you, you know. Pass me the pumpkin juice?'

'Surely Snape will able to laugh about this too in a while?' Circe said, reaching for the carafe of juice. But she didn't sound too convinced.

'Snape? I'd be surprised.' Tonks sighed. 'Oh well, I suppose I shouldn't worry to much. It'll be allright in the end.'

'That's my girl. Now, did you know one of those silly Slytherin girls actually has a crush on Snape?'

Tonks almost choked on her pumpkin juice. 'Really? That's gross!' she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling again. 'Who? How do you know?'

* * *

Snape had spent the afternoon in a rather bad mood. He had a distinct feeling that everyone was laughing at him behind his back and he didn't like that one bit – so when he went to the teachers' Common Room for tea, he took great care to wear an expression on his face that made sure no one in their right mind would dare to ask how his nose was doing. 

'Ah, Severus,' said Dumbledore, who looked up from a rather large pile of cream-topped scones as Snape entered the room. 'How's your nose doing?'

_I should've known._ 'Perfectly fine,' grumbled the Potions Master and walked straight on to the farthest corner of the room.

But Dumbledore didn't leave him alone. 'Have a scone, they're delicious,' he said. 'I must admit I couldn't suppress a small chuckle when I heard about your little accident today. That was definitely one impressive Summoning Charm.'

Snape muttered something under his breath.

'What did you say, Severus? You don't think it was funny?'

Snape scowled. 'Funny? No, actually that didn't occur to me. Maybe because I was too busy trying not to splatter the walls with blood.'

'I do pity Nymphadora,' said Dumbledore. 'I'd not have cared to be in her place.'

'Everyone seems to regard her as quite the heroine though. But don't worry, I'm not planning to waste too much energy on her.'

There was a short silence in which both Professors chewed their scones, Dumbledore thoughtfully, Snape considerably more violently.

'You know, Severus...' said Dumbledore then.

'Now what?' Snape snapped.

'You should take yourself a little less seriously. See the fun of things. It would be healthy.'

The Potions Master's eyes narrowed. He replaced the scone he'd just been about to bring to his mouth on the plate. 'Yes, obviously _I_ wasn't first in line when they handed out the simple minds,' he said, rising to his feet. He turned around briskly and strode out of the room.

Dumbledore watched him leave, chuckling quietly. 'Good heavens. What a temper.'

* * *

_…So then… was it funny?_

Back in his dungeons, Snape contemplated today's Potions class. Feeling his nose break had definitely _not_ been funny. Neither had almost falling over in front of a whole class of stupid teenagers. Neither had he seen the fun of the situation when he realized how a copy of Advanced Potion-Making had come to collide with his face in he first place, one look at the faces of Tonks and Harris had been enough to –

Wait. Harris' face. The utter horror in his eyes. The fact that he hadn't even realized his mouth was open. The way he had tried to hide behind his desk.

Yes. Harris' face had definitely been funny.

_Stupid twit._

And if anyone had been present there, he could've seen the corner of the Potion Master's mouth twitch up in the faintest hint of a smile.

* * *

**a/n** So… this chapter came as a complete surprise to me as well. The night before I'd been working on one of the more difficult parts later in the story, after which I actually had trouble sleeping, and I guess I just wrote this lighthearted chapter as a means of compensation.

Till next time!


	3. Thank You

Not many reviews for chapter two, but hey, I'm a grown-up girl, I can manage my disappointment. I'm continuing anyway.

(There's this really annoying thing about writing in English – it impairs my Dutch! I'm working on a story in Dutch now and whenever I try to formulate things exactly right, only English words pop up and I have to look them up in a dictionary to find a fitting Dutch translation. Pathetic, huh?)

Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling. I'm glad I'm not, cause I don't have a clue about Book Seven.

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**3. Thank you **

Saturday came with a pale sun shining hesitatingly through dark grey rainclouds, casting large, fleeting shadows upon the dewy Hogwarts grounds. The air smelled of grass and rain and Quidditch – it was exactly the weather Tonks liked. She'd spent a large part of the morning at the Quidditch pit with Circe watching the Ravenclaw team practice; not that it was so exciting, but Circe seemed to have decided she had a crush on one of the Chasers, a boy she'd never noticed before since he was a year below them, but who had clearly made good use of his summer by suddenly becoming all tall and tan and grown-up. She was now talking about signing up for the try-outs the next week.

'Circe, you're lousy at Quidditch,' Tonks reminded her. 'You'll only make a complete idiot of yourself. Why don't you just help him with his homework or something?'

'Because we're not in Hufflepuff, that's why. Hey, I know! I'll just get severely hurt in the first minute of the try-outs and then he will carry me to the hospital wing.'

Tonks laughed. 'I'll just Summon some heavy object, then.'

'Tonks, I know you pretend you don't care, but you _must_ admit the guy's hot.'

'All I see is that he's 15.'

'Yeah, I forgot, you think that wrinkles and greying hair are sexy…'

'I never said anything about wrinkles! Just, I like guys to have a little experience in life, you know. Those 16-year-olds are just so… happy. Boyish. Stupid.'

'So, you'd rather have an unhappy old man. Reminds me, it's almost time for your detention.'

For a moment Tonks looked puzzled. Then she shrieked. 'Snape?!'

'Yeah, I thought he'd be the perfect… what?'

A very thoughtful frown had suddenly appeared on Tonks' face. 'You're making fun of it,' she said seriously, 'but hey, why not? I must admit I'd never thought about him that way before, but now I'm getting used to the idea, I kind of like it…' She smiled dreamily, her gaze wandering off into the distance.

Circe looked at her, her eyes wide with shock. 'Tonks! Tell me you're kidding!'

'I'm perfectly serious,' said Tonks. She hesitated. 'Do you… do you think I'd have a chance with him? He probably just sees me as another annoying teenage girl…'

'Tonks!' she yelled, getting hold of her friend's shoulders and shaking her. 'Look at me. Listen to me. Did you eat or drink anything unusual this morning?'

Tonks hid her face in her hands. 'Of course not,' she said in a strange, choking voice.

'But… hey, look at me. What's that? Are you _crying_?'

Then Tonks couldn't hold back her laughter anymore. 'Of – course – I'm – kidding – you – idiot,' she hiccuped. 'I can't believe you fell for it.'

For one moment, Circe looked dumbstruck, then she laughed too. 'You were disturbingly convincing, though' she said. 'Hey! I'd go back to the castle now if I were you. The love of your life is waiting. Just like him to deliberately force you to skip lunch.'

* * *

When Tonks entered the dungeon, she found Snape in the classroom, directing a giant chair towards a cleared corner with his wand. The chair was of the kind that once would've been very comfortable, with velvet upholstery, heavy armrests and a high back. However, the velvet looked mouldy and worn and iron springs were sticking out of the seat.

Snape gave no sign that he had heard her, but when he had placed the chair down, he turned around and said, 'Mr. Filch has kindly called my attention to the fact that this chair is infested with Doxy nests. You have the rest of the afternoon to harvest all the eggs and collect them in there.' He indicated a large empty glass jar on a workbench close to the the chair. 'When you're finished, you'll take care to leave everything perfectly clean – any newly-hatched Doxy I find in my curtains in the next month will mean five points from Ravenclaw.'

'Yes sir.'

'Now get to work, and don't disturb me.' With that, he turned around and disappeared into his office.

It was definitely better than cleaning cauldrons - she hated everything even remotely like housekeeping, and cleaning cauldrons without magic was so useless, if one could do it in two seconds by just waving a wand.

She tied up her hair, that was long and pale silver today, rolled up her sleeves, took a sharp knife from the student cupboard, kneeled next to the chair and cut open the seat. The insides of the chair were half gnawed away and smelled of mould, dust and Doxy droppings. Tonks could see the small black eggs clotted together in sticky lumps, half-hidden behind dirty chair stuffing, splintered pieces of wood and dangerously protruding springs.

She reached for the glass jar and put it on the ground next to her. This could be fun.

* * *

Three hours later, she knocked on the door of Snape's office. He didn't hear it at first, since he was immersed in a most interesting and obscure medieval work on curing vampirism – not all cures were equally ethically justified – but when he heard her voice, 'Professor? I've harvested all the eggs,' he put away his book and rose to open the door.

She was a terrible sight. Strands of hair had escaped her ponytail and hung in her face, tangled; there were dusty black smears on her face and her robes were covered in chair stuffing. Her eyes looked red and irritated and she had scratches all over her arms, some of them bleeding.

His black eyes rested on her for a moment. 'Miss Tonks, you look even more appalling than usual.'

'Don't worry, I completely cleaned the classroom, sir,' she said, apparently ignoring his snide comment, and rather confident in spite of the way she looked. 'I just figured that I could do best with a long, hot shower.'

_I'm really not interested in your plans for the afternoon._

'Pay a visit to the hospital wing,' he said curtly, 'I don't want to be blamed for any unpleasant infections you may have contract because of these.' He gave a small nod indicating the scratches on her arms and hands.

'Will do, sir.'

He made to close the door, but her voice held him back. 'Professor?'

'What?'

'I just wanted to say, well, thank you for letting me on your NEWT-class.'

He frowned. 'I can't see why I need to be thanked for that, Miss Tonks. Unless you are trying to say that you didn't deserve your Outstanding, which, to be frank, surprised me too.'

She looked to the ground, taken aback for the first time, and he knew she knew he was lying.

'I don't know. Maybe what I'm really trying to say is, I never intend to offend you. I just can't change the way I am and you can't expect me to.'

'Sad to disappoint you, but who you are, or aren't, doesn't in the least interest me.'

Their eyes met, his cold and black as ever, hers a vivid green, rimmed with red. For one long second, they stared at each other in a wordless challenge. Then she turned away.

'Good afternoon, Professor Snape.'

* * *

**a/n** Please let me know if you'd like a nine-year-old Draco to make an appearance next chapter. I have a small scene in mind, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the main storyline, so I'm not sure whether to include it or not. Also, as the story progresses, please don't hesitate to warn me if you think Tonks is becoming too OOC. We don't know that much about her and she's still a teenager in this part of the fic, but still.


	4. Images

Sorry for the long wait, but I was busy on writing a story for the university newspaper's Christmas writing contest. As a means of compensation, I've made this chapter extra long. I've tried to include some of my thoughts on Tonks, thanks to Slim Shady for inspiring me to put some of these thoughts into words, it helped me to get a clearer view on where I wanted her character to go.

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**  
4 Images**

'Oh my god, you look horrible!' Circe exclaimed wide-eyed when Tonks entered the Ravenclaw common room. 'What did the nasty git make you do this time?'

'Getting Doxy eggs out of an old chair. I'm sure any normal person would've been just fine, but you know me.' She sat down on the armrest of Circe's chair, untied her hair and shook it loose, so that it fell down her shoulders in dirty silver strands.

'There's blood on your arm!' shrieked Circe. 'We should go complain to Professor Flitwick!'

'Circ, you're overreacting. Besides, I've really had enough of Snape for the moment. I'm going to take a shower and visit the hospital wing just to be sure and I'll be fine.'

Het friend looked at her inquiringy. 'What happened?'

'Nothing much. Detention with Snape.'

'Come on, you _never_ let any teacher get to you.'

'It's not Snape. I'm just annoyed at myself.' She narrowed her eyes at Circe's fifth-year Chaser, who was looking at her from the other side of the room with a pitying look in his eyes – she accepted pity only from a very select group of friends.

'So, what did you do?'

'Try to make a reconciling gesture. I failed.'

'Why on earth would you try to reconcile with Snape?'

'Don't know. I guess I just want him to leave me alone the next two years. It's just so – tiring to have him after me all the time, for stupid reasons like the colour of my hair and my lack of natural grace.'

'So, you told him you were sorry and he slammed the door into your face?'

'I didn't tell him I was sorry – what should I be sorry for? I just tried to say something generally nice, only it didn't make much sense, and well, you know him.'

'He made it very clear you made no sense.'

'Yeah, and then things went wrong. I guess I made the matter too personal. I felt really foolish, but Snape was being nastier than ever, and in the end I was just so angry at him… I don't know. I left.'

'So you _are_ angry at him.'

'I never said I wasn't. But I should've known how he'd react from the beginning – I just feel so stupid for having even the tiniest hope that he wouldn't.'

Several people in the room were now casting curious glances at them, and Tonks abruptly rose from her seat. 'I'm going to take that shower.'

* * *

When she was standing in the shower among clouds of steam, letting the hot water run down her body, scouring her skin, washing away the dirt and the afterchill of Snape's cold gaze, she found herself thinking of her past years at Hogwarts. She'd arrived as a rather inconspicuous-looking eleven-year-old, with long mouse-brown hair, small for her age. The Sorting Hat hadn't needed much time to sort her into Ravenclaw, a decision that didn't surprise her: her father had been in Ravenclaw and her mother, according to herself, 'almost'. Tonks didn't think there was basically anything wrong with Slytherin, but she knew she would probably have had a hard time there: as the daughter of a blood traitor and a Muggle-born, she would have been forced to play their little games of power even better than the rest of them. The radical advocates of blood purity had kept relatively silent in public ever since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been defeated, but it wasn't hard to guess what was going on in the safety of their own family circles, or the Slytherin common room for that matter. With her tendency to blurt out thoughts at exactly the inappropriate moment, she probably wouldn't have survived for long there. 

In Ravenclaw, she felt perfectly at home. She and Circe had quickly become friends. Circe was the kind of person who reacted strongly and passionately to everything but completely lost interest when something else attracted her attention – she could be immersed in book on Greek mythology for hours, making notes, forgetting to eat, and then abandon it the next day for a 'way more interesting' work on ancient Mesopotamian charms. She could be head over heels in love with a boy and break up with him after two months because he was a witless bore after all. Tonks herself was calmer, more reclusive. People who didn't know her well sometimes said she just shrugged everything away and never allowed herself to get emotional. But that was true only on the outside. When she really cared about something her feelings were as passionate as Circe's, with the difference that they lasted – and, though she didn't often name them explicitly, she was hardly ever able to hide them.

A lot of people considered her a rebel. When she first started to experiment with her hair and eyes at thirteen – she'd known for a long time that she could change bits of her appearance at will, but somehow it had never before occurred to her to use that power for such a mundane purpose as _looking cool_ – she had quickly achieved a kind of fame among students and teachers alike. She was conscious of both the admiring looks of the former and the barely hidden shock of the latter and found herself enjoying both, but in the end, it didn't really matter to her how others reacted. She was not trying to get a point across or to go against the mainstream purely for the sake of it – she was just having fun.

Her reputation had spread even more due to the fact that she always seemed to be involved in strange accidents and incidents that were often interpreted by others as cleverly disguised acts of rebellion, or even as proof of a total disregard for rules and conventions. In fact, these incidents were hardly ever intentional, and if they did reflect any real disrespect for rules or authority, it was only because she considered them unfair in that specific situation.

Now, looking back, it seemed as if those first five years at Hogwarts had just _happened_ to her, without any deliberate intention or conscious influence of her own. Her world seemed perfectly defined but she had almost no memory of defining it. Things had always been so simple – you were nice to the people who were nice to you, you stayed away from the people who weren't, you used your talents the best you could, and there! you had a life. But suddenly she felt like she had no guarantee whatsoever that it was _her_ life. That the person she was was really _her_. How could she know that in the end she wasn't just a hollow thing with people's images of her projected on the outside? It didn't make a difference to any of these people. It even didn't actually make a difference to herself, because in the end, all her interaction with others was reduced to fit inside the boundaries of interpretation governed by whatever image of her they had constructed. Maybe what she meant was more true than what others made of it, but what actual difference did the truth make?

Snape, she realized, had never picked on her when she was still that small, inconspicuous girl. She actually remembered the first time he had really singled her out in class – it had shocked her because she'd never really disliked him up till then. She had changed her hair colour again that morning; it was about four months since she had said her final goodbye to her perpetual mousy-brown ponytail and her hair had gone through various shades of red and purple since then. That day, it was light blond and modeled short but rather voluminously after the current Muggle fashion (she'd read some of her cousin's pop magazines when she visited her father's family during the Christmas holidays). Snape had not commented on it during the first half of the class, though he had raised one eyebrow disapprovingly when she had entered the dungeon. But later, when she'd been working on a potion together with Charlie Weasley, who had been audibly praising her daring new look, he had suddenly interrupted his patrolling round.

'Mr Weasley, what do you think you are doing?'

Charlie quickly glanced at the contents of their cauldron, which didn't look bad at all, and looked up. 'Brewing a Shrinking Potion, sir.'

'Really? I was sure you deemed the need to admire Miss Tonks to have a higher priority than this lesson's assignment. Although I have no doubt that this admiration is crucial to Miss Tonks' selfrespect, you shall hereafter concentrate on your work and not disrupt this class anymore with unintellegible utterings of teenage jargon.' Then, suddenly, he looked as if he changed his mind. 'But wait…' He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, tapping his chin with one finger in mock thought. 'Since we do not really want to rob a vulnerable, insecure fourteen-year-old of her moment of fame, I will allow Miss Tonks one more minute – attention everyone!' he said in a loud voice that made everyone look in their direction. 'Miss Tonks, please stand up, so everyone can have a good view.'

She hadn't really known what to do, but Charlie had nudged her encouragingly, so she had hidden her shock and confusion as well as she could and stood up proudly. Snape had looked down on her sarcastically. 'Have a look at the spectacular work of art that is Miss Tonks new hairdo. I trust it will be an enriching experience for all of you. Don't forget to pay her a compliment before you leave this classroom. Thank you Miss Tonks, you may sit down again.'

She had ungraciously dropped back on her chair, cheeks flushed, feeling hurt and confused and stubborn and somehow even proud at the same time. Snape, at last, had turned her back on them again, but not before he had scowled at Charlie, 'Mr Weasley, five points from Gryffindor for an appalling lack of taste.'

From that time on, she had been a regular target whenever Snape was in a bad mood. She'd always thought it was just because of her looks and her clumsiness – only now she realized it was really something else that had caused it: others' opinion of her, the fact that people considered her a rebel and admired her for it. Snape saw in her what he wanted to see: a means of getting back at a system that he hated.

And then, suddenly, her earlier words to Snape seemed painfully naïve. _I can't change the way you look at me_, she should have said. _I would, but you won't let me_. It was true. Who she _was_ didn't have anything to do with it.

It was a thought that was saddening and comforting at the same time. Comforting, because it meant that Snapes behaviour was his problem and not hers, and saddening because it revealed so much more about Snape. She was by no means less angry at him. It was just that maybe… she understood a little of the sad world he lived in. A world in which he needed to create antagonists to fulfill a need of – what? Power? Superiority?

She focused again on the feeling of the water on her skin. Reaching for one of the colourful shampoo bottles she whispered her final conclusion to the walls around her, a thought that wasn't nearly as simple as it sounded. 'I'll just ignore him.'

* * *

So she ignored him. Abandoning all hope, in some cases, leads to cheerfulness rather than despair, so Tonks found it no problem to address Snape with the politeness he required without any of the irony she'd at first expected to feel. In fact, the rest of that year went rather well – though nothing much had changed in Snape's attitude towards her, she just had little trouble shrugging his snide remarks away. Some may have said she disliked him less. She just said she didn't care. There were more important things in the world – Circe's love life, for example, and thinking of new things to do with her hair. Snapeish black, perhaps. She'd never tried that.

* * *

_****_

a/n . Being 16 is all about being a weird mix of childish and wise. Or so I'd think, in retrospect. Also, the more I write on this story, the more I fear it's going to get very hard to get Sev and Tonks together, or at least togetherish... it may take a lot more time than I originally thought. No Draco in this chapter, he'll probably make a very short appearance in the next one. 


	5. Invitation

_Disclaimer: not mine_

* * *

**5. Invitation **

Severus Snape didn't often think about his life. He didn't see the point of having to remind himself of all the mistakes he had made in the past that not only couldn't be undone, but would also continue to influence him until the day he died. Also, he'd usually end up feeling guilty, which he hated, especially because the guilt would always come mixed with embarrassment and the embarrassment with hate and he would end up feeling like torturing some innocent student.

But, just as he couldn't help having a conscience after all, he sometimes couldn't help contemplating himself. It was a feeling that came in unguarded moments – as if he was suddenly outside and above himself, forced to look down at the pathetic man he suddenly recognized himself to be.

Through the years, he'd learned to avoid the situations that triggered it: dinner with the Malfoys (Lucius' smug manners that told him louder than words how grateful he, the halfblood – Mudblood – was to be for having such an influential patron, while all he really wanted to do was throw his soup into that complacent face and leave), talking with Dumbledore (who reminded him of everything Severus himself wasn't and somehow always seemed to see right through him, making him feel naked and vulnerable), residing at Spinner's End, so dreary and full of memories, and picking on certain students for so long that they finally snapped and stood up to him.

He'd always hidden very well that he didn't really know how to handle that. That is – he could handle it perfectly well on the outside, reacting with even more malice and sarcasm than usual though at moments like that it would be a mask more than anything else, a mask that he had to force himself to wear so they wouldn't see his resolve crumble on the inside, when suddenly all the old feelings of fear and uncertainty and the feeble balance of power came back to him.

He was glad that his students were all more or less afraid of him. He could handle them if they were.

* * *

Tonks rested her forehead against the cool window of their Hogwarts Express compartment and looked at the mythical landscape that travelled by: the dark green and purple moors, rough and rocky and speckled with small flocks of tough-looking sheep, the woods, cool and shady, and the sunlit fields, green and golden, separated from each other by low, ancient-looking stone walls. Occasionally, there'd be a thatched farmhouse or a small square-towered church, looking ready to quietly defy time yet for centuries to come. Alongside the railway track blossomed pale pink and white flowers.

'Don't you just love England?' she sighed to Circe, who was sitting opposite of her eating a pumpkin pasty. 'I'm sure it's the most magical country in the world.'

'Actually, I can't wait to be off to Spain,' said Circe. 'Especially this year. I'm so glad Mum and Dad agreed with Jason's idea of staying with his Weasley friends. Really, you're so lucky not to have a little brother, you know that?'

'You told me 1487 times now, I estimate. And you still haven't convinced me. I like Jason. If I were him, I'd also rather stay with the Weasley family than have to go to Spain with you.'

Circe ignored her. 'You know,' she said dreamily, 'I could offer to drop Jason of at the Weasleys, and if I made sure we'd be there at the right time, Charlie's mum might invite me to stay for dinner and I'd finally get a proper chance to talk to him.'

Tonks rolled her eyes. 'With your little brother and those twins present?'

'I really don't get how you always manage to be so encouraging and supportive. I'd grow tired of it ever so quickly.'

'I'm just afraid you'll keep denying your feelings if someone doesn't encourage you to express them,' said Tonks, a mock-concerned frown on her face.

Circe laughed. 'I'll miss you over the summer. Promise me to have a good time.'

'Maybe I can convince my parents to go somewhere. Otherwise, I'll have to force myself upon my cousins again. I'm sure they'd love to take me to a Muggle pop concert – they always seem to think I need some musical education.'

'What about your mother's side of the family? Do you ever see your cousins?'

'I think there's only one. A Malfoy. A disgustingly spoiled brat, probably. Anyway, my family has the tendency to end up in Azkaban, and I don't suppose it's easy to make babies there.' Suddenly there was an uncharacteristic bitterness in her voice. 'You know, I remember Sirius Black. I was only seven when he… well… went to Azkaban, but before that he used to drop by pretty often. He'd always invent the craziest games to play with me. I called him Uncle.'

She fell silent, studying a spot on her jeans where she had spilled pumpkin juice that morning. Circe chewed her pasty thoughtfully.

'I mean, it's a long time ago,' Tonks resumed, 'but it's still… weird. Hey, can I have that Chocolate Frog?'

'Sure,' said Circe, looking relieved. She tossed the sweet to her friend, who failed to catch it and had to retrieve it from under her seat. By the time she emerged, she was laughing again.

* * *

The incident with Nymphadora Tonks had been one of these moments that had him thinking. He'd told himself she made no sense and strictly speaking that was true, but even so he hadn't been blind to the actual meaning of her words. She was challenging him to speak the truth for once and he had responded with a lie so obvious it was pathetic. At that moment, he had lost his power over her.

She'd been different in class from that day on. A small difference, but he had noticed it nevertheless: while before she'd used her pride to shield herself off from him, she now seemed to have dropped every defense – and somehow it had rendered her invulnerable. Occasionally, she'd throw him knowing looks that both enraged and confused him. They reminded him of people like Dumbledore and Remus Lupin, people so hard not to love and respect that Severus couldn't despise them no matter how much he wanted to, a paradox he usually solved by despising others for showing _their_ love and respect.

Some may have said he'd come to realize that he might have been wrong in lumping her together with people like James Potter and Sirius Black. Some may have said he disliked her less. He just said – to himself, anyway – that picking on her, somehow, was less satisfactory than before. And if he had been completely honest, which he never was because it made him feel weak, he'd have admitted that sometimes when he looked at Nymphadora Tonks, he would catch a glimpse of something like the first light of dawn after a long dark night of dastard deeds – uniting the greatest of fear and the most secret of hopes.

* * *

When the Hogwarts Express arrived in London, they found Ted Tonks waiting for his daughter at the platform. Circe's parents were there too, and her youngest brother Ares, a bouncy six-year-old. Circe's eyes lit up. 'Look, they brought Ares! I missed him so much!'

'Guess there is some fun in little brothers after all,' said Tonks, who was levitating her trunk and trying to make it go in circles around her head. 'Look, my own personal moon.'

'Ouch,' yelled someone behind her. 'Can't you watch out?'

Ted Tonks smiled at his daughter. She had grown up in the past year and yet she hadn't changed one bit – well, her hair was still changing colour. Right now it was dark blue and coppery red, no doubt in honour of her House. He made sure her trunk was safely back on the ground before he hugged her.

'Hey Daddy,' she said, smiling brightly.

'Hey Nymphie. I like your hair.'

'I knew you would,' she said, breaking away from the hug a little too soon for his liking, but then he supposed he was lucky for having a seventeen-year-old daughter who allowed him to hug her in the first place.

Behind them, Ares had piggy-backed Circe, squealing in delight. 'You're so fat!' his sister complained. 'I think I'm going to keep you on a diet of water and lettuce this summer!'

'Look, there's Jason,' pointed Ares. 'Go, my noble steed, gallop to meet my brother!'

Circe laughed. 'No way. Go gallop to him yourself.'

Jason, a dark-haired twelve-year-old who looked like his arms and legs were too long for him, was accompanied by two identical freckled, red-haired boys. 'Hello, Mrs. and Mr. Christopher,' they chimed in unison.

'You must be Fred and George,' beamed Mrs. Christopher. 'How nice to meet you.'

'Pleasure to meet you too,' the twins said, shaking hands all around. 'Hi Circe, hi Nymphadora.'

'What's wrong with you guys?' Tonks whispered. 'Since when do you call me Nym- '

'Shh,' hissed George (though it could well have been Fred). 'Jason was afraid his mum would go back on her decision when she met us. He told us to behave. So we behave.' There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

'Look, there's our family!' sang Fred in sugar-sweet tones. 'Come on, George, let's go tell Mum how much we missed her. Bye Jason, we'll see you in a few days. Bye Mr. and Mrs. Christopher.' They winked at Jason and ran off towards a group of red-haired people that was standing a little further away, centered around a stout woman who was just pressing a slightly embarrassed-looking Charlie to her heart.

'What a well-behaved boys,' smiled Mrs. Christopher. 'I'm glad you've made such good friends, Jason. And what a nice family they seem.'

'So, Circ,' said Tonks casually, lowering her voice, 'aren't you going to say goodbye to a certain someone?'

Circe blushed. 'If you come with me. It wouldn't be so weird then, because you know him pretty well.'

'Coward,' said Tonks, but she smiled. 'Come on.'

* * *

When Ted and his daughter came home, the latter now with green and silver hair, they found Andromeda at the kitchen table, suspiciously eyeing a sheet of parchment she was holding.

'Hey Mum! I'm home again!' Tonks said, hugging her mother from behind and kissing the top of her head. 'Look, I've Slytherined my hair just for you. What's that?'

'Nothing,' said Andromeda quickly folding the parchment and putting it in her lap. She then turned around to kiss her daughter. 'Welcome home dear. I like your hair.'

'I knew you would. So, what's in that letter? Can I read it?'

'It doesn't matter anyway. We're not going.'

'Going to what?' Tonks insisted.

'Andy?' said Ted. 'What is it?'

Defeated, Andromeda sighed. 'It seems the Ministry is suspecting Lucius again.'

Ted shrugged. 'Of course they are. The scheming slimeball has 'Death Eater' written all over him.'

'Ted, don't…'

'Is the letter from the Ministry?' Tonks frowned.

'No. Well, here, you might as well read it now. It just arrived.' She handed the parchment to her daughter.

_Dear Mrs. Tonks Black, dear Ms. Tonks,_

_The Honourable Lord and Lady, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are delighted to invite you to our_

_Midsummer Dinner Party_

_June 23, 5 pm, Malfoy Mansion, Wiltshire_

Tonks looked up from the letter with confusion in her eyes. 'But I thought they denied we even existed.'

'They do,' said Ted bitterly.

'But why…'

'They're bloody using us,' Andromeda burst out. 'Lucius needs to smarm up to the Ministry so they throw one of their _look-how-nice-and-generous-we-are_ parties – oh Minister, have you already tasted that caviar, yes Lucius, thank you, it's delicious and, why, you have even invited the black sheep of the family and her Halfblood daughter, of course Minister, but what do you mean black sheep, they're our family and we love them, I see Lucius, what a nice and reasonable man you are, and here I almost thought you were a Death Eater! – Oh, I'm sure Bellatrix wouldn't acknowledge our existence even if it would get her out of Azkaban, but Narcissa and Lucius… all _they_ think about is how they can use us to save their miserable arses… just don't expect them to deign to look at you while you're there…' and suddenly, her eyes that had seconds before been ablaze with anger, filled with tears that she bravely tried to blink away.

'Andy…' said Ted softly, 'let's just forget about it. Let's tear that thing in one thousand pieces and celebrate that Nymphie is home. I'll cook.'

Andromeda didn't answer.

'Mum?' asked Tonks in a small voice. 'Did they invite you ever before?'

She looked up, her eyes hard again. 'Yes, they did,' she said. 'Shortly after Bella's imprisonment. I thought Narcissa really wanted to – well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I went. It was a mistake.'

Tonks didn't need more words to understand, and suddenly she felt like she was in Snape's Potion's class again, that moment when he ordered her to stand up so everyone could see her hair – the same strange mixture of shock and hurt and anger and pride, and her voice was determined when she said, 'I'll go.'

Andromeda looked at her confusedly, as if she thought she had understood it wrong, but Ted immediately said, 'No you won't.'

'I will!' she said in a raised voice, her cheeks flushed. 'And they'll know they invited me.'

'Really, you don't want to go,' repeated Ted.

'I'm of age! I can make my own decisions! And right now, there's nothing I want more than to show up at Lord Lucius and Lady Narcissa's honourable party with a poison-green mohawk.'

Suddenly, Andromeda smirked. 'Hey. I like that.'

'I knew you would,' said her daughter complacently. 'Now, where's dinner? I'm ever so hungry.'

For one moment, Ted looked as if he wanted to protest, but then he sighed. 'Will shepherd's pie be fine?'

* * *

Severus Snape knew what would be inside the envelope long before he forced himself to open it. He also knew that he would have a hard time making up an excuse – Lucius knew all too well that he'd spend the whole summer at Spinner's End, watching the time creep by, occasionally blasting all the furniture to bits, and afterwards cleaning up the mess again, angry and frustrated at himself. 

Eventually, he tore open the envelope.

_Midsummer Dinner Party_

He threw it into the fire, a symbolic gesture, however meaningless he knew it to be.

* * *

_**a/n**Somehow I'm convinced that dinner party plots are a characteristic of bad fanfic. Please tell me I'm being irrational. In any case, I won't let the plot rely on it too heavily. _ _ps - Draco in the next chapter. Really._


	6. Velouté

disclaimer: I don't own**  
**

* * *

**6 Velouté**

As Snape Apparated at the wrought-iron gate that was the entrance to the Malfoys' impressive manor, it was opened for him almost immediately by the small, sullen-looking man whom the family employed as a gardener and gatekeeper. The man was immaculately dressed in a dark green butler's uniform and welcomed him with a bored sort of little bow. 'Mr. Snape.'

Snape barely looked at him as he strode past him, his footsteps crunching on the gravel of the lane. Sounds of people talking and laughing were coming towards him from the other side of the mansion and he suddenly felt uncomfortably naked and small without his robes. He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw.

He had to admit he liked the house. It looked like something straight from a gothic novel, with little towers and bay windows sticking out everywhere, and on the inside it was full of arched passageways and dark corners that seemed to be made to hide in during dinner parties.

The front door was open, and when Snape was halfway climbing the steps that lead up to it, no one less appeared in the doorway than his honourable host, Lucius Malfoy himself. He was dressed in an elegant velvet suit, his long pale hair tied together with a green ribbon, and he smiled smugly at his newly arrived guest. 'Severus. I knew you'd be there.'

'I had nothing better to do,' said Snape curtly.

Lucius let out a mock-pleasant laugh. 'Severus, Severus. It's such a pity you don't have any friends. I can't see why, really.'

'Perhaps it's the fact that all my _friends_ are either in Azkaban or dead. That is, except for those talented few who always know exactly which backsides to kiss.'

Lucius arched an eyebrow. 'How charmingly put. What about your dear Dumbledore's backside?'

'He's not my dear Dumbledore,' said Snape through gritted teeth.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you,' said Lucius, inclining his head in mock apology. Then he added in a more civil tone, 'Well, come on in. Everyone else is in the garden. Let's not keep Narcissa waiting.'

There was a short silence as they walked down the marble hallway together towards the saloon, where large sliding doors of coloured glass led to the manor's enormous back garden. Eventually, Lucius broke the silence. 'I don't deny I'm glad that there is someone like you teaching at Hogwarts. I'm still considering to send Draco to Durmstrang, however. At least there they still know what true values are.'

'Agreed. Too bad they wouldn't have me there,' muttered Snape.

They were interrupted by Narcissa, who walked up to them with a self-satisfied expression on her face, a glass of wine elegantly between her gloved vingers. 'Hello, Severus. How nice you could come.'

'Narcissa.' Snape nodded slightly. He actually preferred Narcissa's company over that of her husband – although her preoccupation with herself and her lovely son Draco could at times be annoying, at least it meant he didn't have to talk about himself, or endure constant suggestions of his inferiority.

Lucius left them for the Minister of Magic, who was standing near the long, handsomely decorated dinner table that had been set up a little distance away, shaded by magically suspended draperies that fluttered lightly in the wind. The Minister was looking around contently, occasionally taking sips of wine, nodding suavely at the people who came to shake his hand.

Snape knew that there were people at the Ministry who still were convinced that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, although he'd always claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse. Every once in a while, but less and less frequently, suspicions against him rose again due to something he'd said, or something someone else had said, or some possible evidence that had popped up somewhere – but Lucius always seemed to know exactly what was going on and, more importantly, how to silence the suspicious voices without being too obvious. Smarming and scheming, that was what Lucius was good at. The corner of Snape's mouth twisted in contempt. There were few things so degrading as pretending to like someone you actually can't stand. At least _he_ told people the truth.

Too bad so many of them didn't seem to care.

* * *

At that same moment, a new guest Apparated with a crack in front of the gate. The gatekeeper hadn't seen her anytime before, so his voice sounded rather suspicious as he asked for her name.

'I'm Nymphadora Tonks,' said the girl. 'I've been invited.' Her long, dark hair was twisted neatly into a bun, and her white dress was plain but tasteful. She smiled at him apprehensively.

The gatekeeper looked at the parchment that listed the party guests, and sure enough, there was her name. He unlocked the gate to let her in, bowing slightly just to be sure.

* * *

'Draco!' called Narcissa to a pale-haired boy of about nine years old that was squatting down in a corner of the garden, surrounded by two or three other children and poking a wand into an unrecognizable something on the ground (some small animal, Snape guessed). The boy looked up reluctantly. 'Come and say hello to Professor Snape!'

'Really, Narcissa, there's no need to…' began Snape, but Draco muttered something to his companions, stood up and came walking towards them, waving the wand around dangerously.

'Honey, I told you not to play around with Daddy's wand. You could hurt yourself,' Narcissa said reproachfully.

Her son ignored her. 'Hello, Professor,' he said, extending his hand importantly. Snape smiled slightly when he shook it.

'Professor Snape will be your Head of House when you go to Hogwarts in two years. Isn't that nice?' cooed Narcissa, stroking Draco's hair.

'No he won't!' said the boy proudly. 'Because I'm not going to Hogwarts. I'm going to Durmstrang.'

'Is that so?' asked Snape.

'Yes! I know Mummy doesn't want me to, but even she has to see that Durmstrang is a much better place for a Pureblood wizard. Anyway, Hogwarts can't really be a good school, can it, with all those Mudbloods who don't know a wand from a broomstick. And Daddy says they do only boring magic there.'

'Honey…' warned Narcissa, 'you have to be careful what you say with all these people around, you know that.'

Draco shrugged. 'It's true.' And with that, he ran off, back to the other children who all seemed to have been waiting for him to continue their game.

'We haven't really decided about a school for him yet, you know,' said Narcissa apologetically. 'There's still a lot of time.' She looked admiringly at her son, who was again poking the thing on the ground, and yelling something to one of his companions in a high-piched, angry voice. 'Our Draco is so ahead of his age. And, I must say, a born leader. See how those other children look up to him.'

Snape muttered something.

Narcissa looked around at the various groups of people that stood scattered across the garden. 'I think I'll go and direct everyone to the table. The first course should be served soon. Do sit down, Severus – look for a card with your name on it. I've invented the system, actually; the gatekeeper's guest list is charmed so that everyone who arrives automatically gets a seat assigned, strictly following etiquette, of course. I suppose our Draco would call it _boring magic_, but I daresay it has saved me a lot of work. It actually involved quite a bit of complicated Arithmancy.'

'Impressive,' said Snape, not entirely managing to keep the irony out of his voice. 'I'll be sure to study it in detail.'

But Narcissa had already turned her back on him in a swirl of pale green satin.

* * *

Tonks breathed a sigh of relief. For one second, she'd feared the gatekeeper would refuse to let her pass, but although he had looked at her strangely, he'd opened the gate for her without any comment. He'd even bowed to her!

Holding her head high, she walked up the lane towards the manor. It was the largest house she'd ever seen, and she rather liked it – _although I'd paint the window-frames pink and plant a lot more flowers_, she added mentally. She realized her mother had grown up in a house like this. It must've been hard for her, she thought, getting used to the small suburban terrace house she and Ted had moved in after their marriage, without money, without house-elfs, without servants, and above all, without family. How could anyone do that to a daughter, a sister?

Cutching her small handbag even tighter, she climbed up the front door steps. Now all she needed was to find a toilet.

* * *

It took another fifteen minutes before everyone had found their seat. Snape had been positioned between a small, rather nervous-looking Ministry of Magic official and a tall, dark-haired wizard with an unpronounceable name, who spoke with a Slavic accent and drank vodka instead of wine.

When everyone sat down, Lucius stood up, tapping his wine glass with a spoon. 'Welcome everyone,' he said, 'Narcissa and I are delighted to see you all here tonight. Of course, I'd like to say a special welcome to the Minister himself,' he nodded towards the Minister, who was sitting next to him, 'who has, in spite of his busy schedule, found the time to grace us all with his presence at our table. Now…'

He was interrupted by a cheerful voice. 'Wotcher, Uncle Lucius, Aunt Narcissa. Sorry I'm late.'

Every head turned in the direction of the house, where a young girl had suddenly emerged, smiling brightly at the dinner guests, wearing flaming red high-heeled boots and a white summer dress that ended in rags about ten inches above her knees. Her hair was a mass of multicoloured dreadlocks. 'Where do I sit?' said the girl. 'Oh, down there on the other side, I suppose.'

There was a sound of breaking glass as Narcissa Malfoy dropped her glass of wine. Lucius seemed frozen, his spoon still in mid-air, but when he saw the dark red pool spread across the virginal white tablecloth he unfroze and reached into his inside pocket for his wand.

'Draco has your wand, dear,' said Narcissa shakily.

'Don't panic,' said the Minister, reaching past Lucius and waving his wand over the mess, 'there you are, as new again.'

Lucius coughed. 'Well… as I said, a special welcome to the Minister. On behalf of my wife I'd like to say that you are about to be served a… what was it again, Narcissa?'

'Mushroom velouté,' said Narcissa, who was again holding her wineglass as if nothing had happened, with a casual smile that was clearly intended to convince everyone present that one would need a lot more than just coloured dreadlocks to unnerve Narcissa Malfoy.

'Mushroom velouté,' repeated Lucius, as bowls of soup and plates of bread and butter appeared on the table. 'Well, I have nothing more to say than _bon appétit_ – and enjoy your Summer's Eve.'

There was a short applause as he sat down again. As the noise around the table gradually increased – people talking, laughing, spoons clinking against china – Snape noticed that Narcissa and Lucius were talking to each other in a frantic whisper.

He looked to the other side of the table, where Nymphadora Tonks was sitting, making one of her dreadlocks change colour to entertain a couple of children nearby. They gaped at her in astonishment, ignoring Draco Malfoy, who was glaring daggers at them.

Snape knew exactly what she was doing here, and, he had to admit, she had courage. Looking back at Lucius and Narcissa, who didn't exactly look like they were enjoying their Summer's Eve, he smirked. She was horrible, but right now, he almost liked her.

* * *

Tonks glanced at her Potions teacher, who was silently eating his roasted lamb with redcurrant sauce. She hadn't expected him to be here, but then, there was really no reason why he shouldn't – he'd probably been in Slytherin around the same time as the Malfoys, so they could well be friends.

But then, why did he look as if he'd rather be in Azkaban than here?

Perhaps it was the tall wizard next to him, who was now unsteadily singing a Polish lullaby to the remains of the lamb joint on his plate. Perhaps he just hated eating amongst fluttering transparent draperies – she could well imagine he did. Perhaps – she smirked a little – he missed his robes. To be sure, he looked small and unimpressive without them.

Suddenly, he looked up and their eyes met. She froze, expecting him to scowl at her, but he didn't. In fact, the look he threw her was almost conspiratory.

There was only one way to explain this. He liked the Malfoys even less than he liked her.

* * *

Her aunt and uncle ignored her for the rest of the evening, as she had expected. She didn't really care. During dessert, which was a buffet full of different kinds of icecream, pudding, fruit, pies and more, she'd bumped into a rather handsome young man who had introduced himself as Everett Brisk and appeared to be an Auror. She'd started questioning him about her career perspectives, but pretty soon he'd seemed to lose interest in everything but her physical appearance, touching her 'accidentally' and coming so close she eventually found herself backed against a prunus hedge.

'Look, it was really nice talking to you,' she said, 'but I really have to… umm… go somewhere.'

'Can't I come with you?' Everett slurred.

'No, you definitely can't.' She dived through under his arm and made for the safety of the nearest group of people. The party, however pretentious, was definitely the most boring one she'd ever been to, and the fact that the majority of guests was getting drunk now improved the atmosphere only very slightly.

The chocolate mousse, however, was extraordinary. _One last plate and I'll go home_, she thought. _It's not as if I'll be able to survive here much longer._

With her plate of chocolate mousse, she walked in the direction of the house, looking for a quiet place to sit down. There was a small path leading down to the side of the manor, and looking around for Everett, who was nowhere to be seen, she opened the small garden fence that lead to it.

She soon discovered that the path was the entrance to a small botanical garden. There were square patches of herbs, separated by narrow pebble paths, a small greenhouse, a moss-covered fountain and a stone bench, on which a familiar figure was sitting.

'Oh, I'm sorry,' Tonks said, as Snape lifted up his head. 'I didn't know you were here.' Deciding even Everett's company would be better than that of her least favourite teacher, she made to turn around again and leave, as his voice spoke up. 'Fleeing from all the attention?' he asked. 'How surprising. I thought you couldn't live without it.'

Suddenly annoyed, she turned her head and looked at him. 'For someone who doesn't care in the least about who I am, you seem to miss very few opportunities to make clear how well you know me, Professor.'

'Just leave,' Snape spat, his eyes flashing.

'I was about to, when you started making conversation.'

'I think our conversation is finished.'

'I think I agree. Good evening, Professor. Glad I'm not the only one who hates this party.' She turned around again and disappeared around the corner of the house.

'Miss Tonks,' she then heard his voice again, as if he'd had an afterthought, 'if you ever dare to show up in my class with hair like that, I'll take at least 20 points from Ravenclaw.'

'I won't,' she answered without looking back. 'It itches terribly.'

He didn't answer. For one moment, she remained where she was, in the shadow of the wall, then she walked back to the party. To her surprise, she found she couldn't suppress a smile.

* * *

_**a/n: **I'm officially obsessed by my Stats menu. Don't know why, really – why does it have to point out so maliciously that of the 636 people who read the first chapter, only 1 out of 10 liked it enough to stay with me until chapter 5, 1 out of 49 has taken the effort to leave a review and 1 or 2 people removed the story from their Alert list after chapter 5? I actually quite liked that chapter… hmm._

_Anyway, I'd like to use this opportunity to wish all my loyal readers/reviewers a very happy 2007 and say thank you! I write this story for my own fun primarily, but it really helps when others enjoy it too. So, here's a subtle suggestion for everyone: this week actually saw my 22nd birthday and certain presents beginning with an R would make me very happy :P_


	7. Bald

_A very, very short chapter, since I'm extremely busy with exams and paper deadlines at the moment, but I really wanted to update. Thanks for all the reviews for chapter 6! Getting reviews still makes me ridiculously happy :)  
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_Disclaimer: not mine._

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* * *

**7. Bald**

She woke up in the middle of the night because someone was shaking her shoulder excitedly. It was Circe. 'Tonks! Get up! I have a surprise for you!'

'Leave me alone,' she grumbled, pulling the blankets over her head.

'Get up!' Circe insisted, tugging at the blankets. 'You'll like it! You have to wake up!'

Reluctantly, she opened one eye. 'What is it then?'

'I can't tell you yet. Come on, get dressed. It doesn't matter what you wear. Put your robes on over your nightgown or something.'

Scowling, she sat up and put her legs over the edge of the bed. 'It better be good.'

Circe handed her her school robes. 'Here. I've removed yesterday's gravy stains. I know how bad you are at cleaning stuff.'

Tonks' face brightened. 'Cool. Thanks.' Standing up, she quickly dressed in her robes, socks and her favourite pair of AllStars. Then she looked at her friend expectantly. 'So,' she said. 'What is it?'

'I've arranged a date for you,' said Circe mischievously.

'You _what_?'

'A date. Come on, I know you like it.'

'Who is it?'

'He's just the guy for you. Tall, dark, handsome, witty, interesting... just go for it, you can always go back to bed if you don't like him.' Her dark blue eyes were sparkling, and she was looking at Tonks so excitedly that she couldn't help but smile. 'OK. Trying won't hurt, I guess.'

'Alright!' Circe exclaimed. 'I knew you'd say yes. He loves girls with pink braids, come on, change your hair, it looks boring now anyway.'

'It doesn't work,' Tonks said, wrinkling her nose in concentration, then looking up at her friend in sudden horror. 'It doesn't work. I've lost it.'

Circe just shrugged. 'Well, never mind then. I'm sure he'll like it as it is now.'

'Look!' Tonks screamed, tugging at her mouse-brown hair. Strands of it were coming loose and stuck to her fingers and robes, bristling with static energy. 'It's falling out! I'm getting bald!'

'Put up your hood then,' Circe said casually. 'He won't mind, he loves bald girls.'

Reluctantly, she stopped tugging at the remains of her hair. 'Are you sure?'

'Absolutely,' Circe beamed. 'And he told me he'd bring a broom and take you to some romantic place far, far away. Now go on! He's waiting on top of the Astronomy tower.'

* * *

Wrapping her robes around her tightly against the chilly night air, she slowly climbed up the stairs of the Astronomy tower. It seemed as if even the ancient stones around her were brimming with expectancy. Who would be waiting for her? Would he be disappointed when she showed up without pink braids? 

Thirty-two more steps to go.

* * *

He was standing on top of the Astronomy Tower, clad in black robes that looked as if they were part of the dark skies around him. He stood perfectly still, giving no indication that he had heard her coming up the stairs. Next to him were a smoking cauldron and the remains of what looked like a Quidditch broom. 

The realization of betrayal hit her like a sharp gust of wind. 'Circe,' she muttered under her breath, 'I'll get you for this.'

'No romantic trip for you tonight,' said Snape without turning around, indicating the splintered pieces of wood on the ground. 'I know what I've gotten myself into. I just don't need a way out.'

'I'm sorry for disturbing you,' Tonks said through clenched teeth. 'I'll go back to bed again, if that's OK.'

'Stay,' he commanded. Then he turned around and looked at her. 'What happened to your hair?'

'It's gone.'

'I can see that. Don't you wonder who you are now? Are you even someone?'

'Of course I am,' she said angrily. 'I'm Nymphadora Tonks.'

'You're seventeen years old, and you know nothing.'

'I could get another date in a second if I wanted to. Everett Brisk fancies me.'

Suddenly, he was very close to her, his eyes shining black in his sallow face. 'Don't try to manipulate me. You'd never date Everett Brisk.'

'I think he could be pretty nice when he's sober.'

'Besides, he'd never fancy a bald girl.'

'That's just mean!' she yelled, pushing him away from her. 'Why are you always mean? Stop being mean!'

'Give me a reason to.'

'I'm never mean to you.'

'Yes you are.'

'I'm not.'

'You are.'

'When?'

'Now.'

'That's ridiculous,' she said, turning around, tired of the discussion.

'See.'

'See what?'

'You're walking out on me knowing fully that if you do, I have to stay here forever.'

She looked over her shoulder, frowning. 'Why?'

'Because I'm chained to the bloody wall, you stupid girl!' he burst out furiously. He extended his arms. 'Look.'

His wrists were bound together with rusty chains, of which one end was attached to a large iron ring, firmly masoned into the tower's balustrade wall. As Snape took another step towards her, they clanked together with a sinister sound.

She just stared at him, unable to speak. Finally, her voice came out in a raspy whisper. 'I didn't know…'

'Well?' said Snape in a small, apprehensive voice.

'Well what?'

'Well, free me.'

* * *

Hands clenched into fists so tightly that it hurt. He didn't remember the dream he had awoken to – he almost never did – but the last words that he had shouted still echoed through his mind. 

_I will walk the path I've chosen. I don't need to be freed._

None of the expected triumph though. The sun had sunk back behind the horizon disappointedly and, looking at his blistered hands, he had almost felt the same.

**  
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* * *

_**a/n **Sorry for the shortness and weirdness. I just love dream logic and I thought I needed some kind of intermezzo thingy. Tell me what you think._

_Oh, and: does anyone of you ever feel that FFnet's layout is bad for stories? I usually like what I've written when I read it back in Word, but when I've uploaded it somehow always looks and sounds poor._

_Anyway, I have an exam coming up in less than 4 hours and I've barely revised, so I'm returning to my books now. Till next time!_

_Edit: aaargh! this must be the 4th time I uploaded this chapter. I think I've removed all text and layout errors now. I hope not too many people have accidentally read previous versions, which were barely understandable due to the lack of paragraph separations.  
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	8. Electrolumos

_A little note on the previous chapter. The original version contained an additional paragraph which clarified that the dream mentioned was actually Tonks'. Somehow, though, it felt a little too overexplaining – so I decided to let everyone interpret the chapter the way he/she liked it and deleted the paragraph. The thing is, now I'm not so sure anymore that was a good idea, since I feel the chapter was far more confusing than necessary. Anyway, the way I intended the chapter was as follows: Tonks and Snape are both dreaming, but only Tonks' dream is described. Snape doesn't remember his dream. It is to the reader to guess what it was like (and whether he even dreamed about Tonks). _

_The next chapter is again very short and not that interesting. Tonks and Andromeda are having a little mother-daughter chat and Tonks finds out something important about Snape. Have fun._

* * *

**8. Electrolumos **

'So, how was the dinner party?' inquired Andromeda next morning at breakfast, pouring her tired-looking daughter a large mug of coffee. 'Did you have fun?'

Tonks smirked. 'In a way. They weren't too happy to see me. I called them Aunt and Uncle in front of everyone.'

'Green mohawk?'

'I decided on dreadlocks. In all colours of the rainbow.' She ran a hand through her hair, that was short and mouse-brown again. Even now, she half expected to feel only bare skin and the texture of her skull below it, too close for comfort. Feeling strangely embarrassed, she quickly picked up her mug and took a sip of coffee.

Her mother looked at her expectantly. 'And?'

'Well, I waited till everyone was seated and Lucius was in the middle of his welcome speech and then I walked in. Narcissa dropped her glass of wine and the Minister had to clean it up for her because Lucius was too busy staring at me. Then, of course, they pretended nothing had happened, and they ignored me for the rest of the evening. Well, the kid didn't.' Theatrically wrinkling her nose, she squeaked, '"Are there maggots in there? I'm sure there are." I told him, indeed, there were. He was really quiet for the rest of the evening.' Recalling Draco's sullen face, she giggled. 'I think I had some success there.'

Andromeda grinned. 'I hope the fact that I'm very proud of you doesn't make me a bad mother.'

'You are allowed to make one or two pedagogically correct remarks, if it makes you feel better. I promise to ignore them.'

Andromeda's face grew a bit more serious. 'I love you.'

Tonks looked down at her coffee mug awkwardly, a slight blush colouring her face. 'Mum. You're not supposed to say that. That's Dad's line.'

'I don't love you. In fact, I don't care about you at all. I'm just selfishly enjoying the sweet taste of revenge, like a true Slytherin.'

'Mum!'

For a second they smiled at each other, two pairs of identical dark twinkling eyes over the rims of two identical coffee mugs. Then, Andromeda put down her coffee, cleared her throat and asked in an entirely different voice: 'So, anyone we know there?'

'Snape. My Potions teacher,' said Tonks, almost unconciously running a hand through her hair again. 'I didn't know he knew the Malfoys. They must've been in Slytherin together. He wasn't in your year, was he?'

'Severus Snape? He was there? No, he wasn't in my year, he was a lot younger, around -' she averted her eyes and hesitated for a split second, 'around Sirius' age. I think he was five years below me. Everyone knew him, though. At first, he had a hard time, since it didn't take the others long to find out he was a halfblood…'

Tonks' head snapped up, causing her to lose control of her mug and spill a rather large part of its contents over her sweater. 'A halfblood? _Snape_?'

Her mother took out her wand lazily, flicked it at her daughter and stated '_Tergeo_', removing the coffee stain in an instant. Then, as if nothing had happened, she continued: 'Yes, a halfblood. One of his parents was a Muggle. He tried his best to fit in, though, and apparently, Lucius saw something in him. They weren't exactly friends, with the age difference and all, but I guess with Lucius treating him relatively friendly, the rest of Slytherin just followed. Anyway, I never liked Lucius or his circle of acquaintance, and I graduated soon afterwards, so I don't know that much about Severus. But I'm sure he's a halfblood.'

'I always assumed he was a pureblood. He sure acts like one. But a halfblood… well, I guess it explains a lot. I mean…'

Andromeda nodded, a quiet smile on her face. 'I know. It goes like that often. You invent a role for yourself to play and then you forget you were ever someone else.'

It was as if she heard his voice again. _Because I'm chained to the bloody wall, you stupid girl._

'What are you tugging at your hair for all the time?' Andromeda asked suddenly. 'Trying to hunt down any remaining maggots?'

Feeling caught, Tonks hastily took a sip of coffee again. 'Oh, nothing,' she said, swallowing. 'Just a dream I had.'

* * *

Severus Snape looked up from his book. It had gone dark outside without him noticing it, and his eyes hurt from unconsciously straining them. Taking out his wand, he muttered '_Electrolumos_' – a spell he had invented a couple of years ago to make his life as a wizard in a house stuffed with Muggle furniture a little less unbearable. The electric floorlamp next to him flickered on hesitatingly, bathing his corner of the room in a pool of dim light and turning the windows into square black holes that vaguely reflected the dreary surroundings of the sitting room. Feeling suddenly cold, he rose to close the curtains. He caught a glimpse of a pale, face, half hidden behind two curtains of lank, black hair, looking prematurely old and rather unpleasant. 

_That's you_, a nagging voice in his head said. _That's who you are, and who you'll continue to be until you die_.

And then it was as if he heard his mother's voice, when he still was a small boy, so young that he had to be taken care of by others, though no one did – but sometimes, she would look at him through her tears as if she'd never noticed his presence before, and she'd tell him she loved him. At first, he'd cry. When he got older, he'd just shrug it away, knowing he hurt her, but pretending not to care.

'That's what you got really good at, isn't it,' he mumbled softly to himself. 'Hurting people.'

_But never the ones that matter_, came the voice again. _The ones that deserve it_

He scowled at his mirror image. 'Everyone who allows himself to be hurt by someone else deserves it.' And with that, he jerked the curtains closed.

* * *

_**a/n:** 1) I'm sorry I couldn't come up with something more inventive than 'Electrolumos'. I just couldn't find my Latin dictionary. Better suggestions are welcome.  
_

_2) I'll probably take a longer time than usual until my next update, since I know where the story is to head eventually, I just don't know yet how to take it there from here. I just need a good way to bridge the gap between this chapter and a couple of later fragments I've already written. (I don't even know whether I'll even be able to use those fragments, since the whole Tonks/Snape thing is proceeding a lot slower than I originally intended…) The next chapter will be longer, too, because two chapters in a row of barely 1000 words apiece is… well… a bit embarrassing ;). Expect it in a week or two. Thanks for sticking with me so far. If you've been lurking this whole time, I dare you to review._


	9. Firewhisky

My sincerest apologies for the long wait! I had to plan out this chapter and the next before I could start writing, so it took me a while, and even after I had the plot outlined I struggled with it for weeks, staring at an empty computer screen for hours and simply not knowing how to put it all into words. (Thanks for the people who offered help so kindly, but I'm the annoying kind of person who can't be really proud at something they haven't done completely on their own ;)). Halfway the chapter, however, it just started writing itself, not at all according to plan. Goodbye carefully constructed plot. Oh well. 

By the way, I posted the first two chapters of a Draco/Hermione ficlet, which is a lot more experimental than 'Weak', and better, I think, in terms of language and atmosphere. Everyone is of course warmly invited to read (and review) it :)

_Disclaimer: I don't own_

* * *

**9. Firewhisky**

Summer passed, filled with lazy hours of sunbathing, reading adventure novels, Muggle magazines and Circe's countless letters from Spain, humming along to the Wizarding Wireless Network, roaming around Camden Market with her cousin Amy and getting drunk for the first time in her life afterwards – the way she looked at breakfast the next morning was enough to have Ted in a fit of laughter, which caused Andromeda to interrupt her lecture on alcohol abuse to go on about inconsistent parenting – and one Quidditch match, the Holyhead Harpies against the Ballycastle Bats, which she attended in the company of her classmates Brian Harris and Sophie Bradley. Brian, who was supporting the Bats, looked uncharacteristically scary in his all-black outfit, and forgot all about his usual quiet and modest behaviour when the Bats won 200 to 80.

Then, halfway August, the Christophers returned from Spain, and Tonks arranged to meet them at the Leaky Cauldron to go shopping in Diagon Alley. She gathered all the money she could find inside and underneath the various socks, cushions, boxes, cauldrons and flowerpots in her room, so she would at least be able to buy Circe and herself decent amounts of icecream, then cast one final glance at her purple-haired self in the mirror and, satisfied, noisily clomped down the stairs to the living room. Her parents had left some money on the fireplace mantle, next to the jar of Floo powder. Tonks didn't really like Flooing, since she'd usually fail to keep her balance and end up covered in ashes and flat on her face, but Apparating inside a busy place like the Leaky Cauldron would probably get her into even more trouble. She remembered a story Circe told her once about a wizard who had accidentally Apparated to a spot where someone else had been standing already – they had been forced to spend a considerable time in St. Mungo's before they were able to leave as two separate and recognizeable persons again, though rumour had it the healers had never been able to figure out exactly who owned which kidney.

_Oh well_, she thought. _It's not as if a considerable part of the Wizarding world hasn't seen you flat on your face already at some point in time_. Throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, she stated 'the Leaky Cauldron' and stepped into the fire.

The living room disappeared in the blink of an eye. Fireplaces flashed by on both sides of her as she tried to keep her balance despite the speed she was repidly gaining. But before she knew it, she was slowing down again and the familiar interior of the Leaky Cauldron became visible, framed with bright green flames, and she stumbled out, flailing her arms to defy the force that was pushing her forward in an attempt to stand still before she bumped into someone. _Heck, I must look stupid._

Eventually, she found herself firmly on both feet again, and she couldn't help feeling a small sense of accomplishment when she looked around the bar in search of the Christophers. Finding Circe waving at her from a small table in the corner, she cheerfully waved back and walked over to join her friend, who was wearing a scandalously short summer dress.

'Welcome back, Miss Look-How-Tanned-My-Legs-Are,' Tonks grinned, dropping gracelessly into the opposite chair. 'Where are your mum and Jason?'

'Off shopping already,' said Circe. 'My mum figured he'd need more supervision than we. Hey, here's what they do in Spain, Tonks!' Leaning across the table, she grabbed her friend's head and firmly kissed her on both cheeks. 'You know, I really think I'm going to live in Spain. My mediterranean roots are calling.'

'Was that really Spanish?' Tonks asked suspiciously, rubbing a finger across her cheek and then studying it intently. 'Seems to me you need more practise. That seductive amount of saliva actually occurs somewhat Italian to me. And there was something very Russian about its position – though it lacked the subtle whiff of alcohol that truly distinguishes the real Russian cheek kiss from the fake one. Besides, I could be mistaken, but I'm pretty convinced you're just as British as I am.'

Circe laughed. 'Rub it in some more, will you.'

'With pleasure. I could force-feed you a pound of garlic-stuffed olives and see what you say then.'

'Do you ladies want to drink anything?' said Tom the landlord, who had appeared beside their table seemingly out of the blue. They both looked up. 'A pumpkin juice, please. With ice,' said Circe. Tom scribbled it down on his little notebook and looked at Tonks. 'And you, young la- er, ma'am?'

'I'd like a Firewhisky,' Tonks said casually, smiling her most wrinkled smile to the landlord, who tried not to look confused at the fact that he'd for a moment mistaken a middle-aged lady for a teenage girl. 'No ice.'

Tom nodded eagerly. 'Comin' right up, ma'am.' Tucking the notebook into his smudgy apron, he left them and disappeared behind the bar to fetch the drinks. Tonks could hear him muttering something to himself that sounded suspiciously like 'purple hair, at her age…'

Meanwhile, Circe was making strange hiccuping noises behind her hand. 'What?' asked Tonks innocently. 'Please behave normally. People will think there's something wrong with you.'

'You look ridiculous!' Circe managed between suppressed giggles.

'At least I don't have to drink pumpkin juice.'

'You cheated.'

'I'll let you have a sip. Promise.'

'Shh! There he comes again.'

'Here you are,' said Tom, putting the drinks on their table. 'That will be eleven Sickles, please.'

'Don't worry about the money, Aunt Nymphadora, I'll pay,' smirked Circe, taking out her purse.

'Thank you, darling. I appreciate that. I'll buy you some icecream later.'

As Circe paid the landlord, Tonks studied the glass of Firewhisky complacently. The liquid had a promising, deep golden colour, and mysterious depths that shimmered with an enticing dark red. _Like a wolf's eye_, she thought.

'Well,' said Circe as Tom had left again, 'here's to our last year. And to my soon-to-be-established support group Alcoholics Metamorphous.' She raised her glass of pumpkin juice and grinned at her friend. 'You're going to regret this.'

'The wrinkles feel weird,' said Tonks, making faces and pulling at the loose skin under her chin. 'Like my skin'll come off any moment. And I have a… a _wattle_.'

'Stop whining, Aunt, and drink your whisky.'

'I'm not whining. Imagine the reverse side of the medal: even when I will be fifty I'll be able to look like seventeen.' She picked up the glass of Firewhisky and took a tentative sip. Immediately, the drink that moments before had seemed smooth, delicate and inviting burned down her throat like liquid fire. Tears sprang to her eyes and it took her all the effort in the world to hold back a coughing fit. Circe, however, laughed so hard she almost choked on her pumpkin juice.

Tonks swallowed and blinked the tears away. 'What are you laughing at?' she managed eventually. 'It's really good.'

'Sure, Auntie.'

'And stop calling me Aunt!'

* * *

They left the Leaky Cauldron not much later, Tonks a little light in the head and slightly more disoriented than usual. Blinking against the sunlight that flooded the small back alley, she took a deep breath of outside air and felt better immediately, even though it filled her nose with the faint smell of cat piss and decaying waste. She screwed up her face in concentration, at first slightly startled by the odd way parts of her skin seemed to be detached from her muscles, and then, after a short but not unpleasant tingle, suddenly startled again by the disturbing sensation that her skin fitted to her skull so tightly that her jaw and cheekbones were about to burst out of it, and her eyelids were no longer keeping her eyeballs safely in their sockets. As her hands flew to her face in a reflex to stop the disaster from happening, the feeling disappeared as quickly as it had arisen and she realized it had only been the momentary shock of being back to normal. She felt her face apprehensively. No wattle. She smiled. 

'Done admiring yourself?' asked Circe. 'Let's go then.' She tapped the wall with her wand and the bricks rearranged themselves to reveal the archway to Diagon Alley. It was bustling with wizards of all ages and styles. Tiny old men in mismatched clothing were advancing purposefully to their respective goals, clutching books or muttering to themselves; yelling, overheated mothers were trying to keep an eye on various children at the same time; small groups of boys were grinning mischievously over some secret item they were showing each other; and teenage couples were wandering around aimlessly, holding hands and dreamily eating icecreams in various shades of pink. Under brightly coloured umbrellas people were sitting, enjoying brightly coloured drinks and chatting to each other cheerfully.

'Let's go to Flourish and Blotts first,' Tonks suggested, 'and then have icecream, and then to the Apothecary for my Potions ingredients, and then have more icecream.'

'You don't want to have icecream before we go get our books as well?'

Tonks considered this for a moment. 'That would be an awful lot of icecream.'

'It would.'

'Tempting.'

'But no.'

'Are you sure?'

'Definitely. Let's go to Flourish and Blotts.'

The book store was crowded with Hogwarts students and their parents, among which the manager was scurrying around, muttering discontentedly about children with sticky fingers and customers who couldn't replace a book where they found it. The Hogwarts section being sorted by year, it didn't take them long to find all the necessary books. They made their way to the counter through the mass of other customers.

'I swear, those first-years are getting smaller every y-' Tonks started, but her sentence ended in a shriek as she slipped on a loose piece of parchment and her leg shot out from under her. In a reflex, she grabbed the nearest person for support, letting go of her pile of books. They dropped to the floor heavily, landing with ominous sounds of cracking leather covers and creasing parchment. Amidst the scattered volumes, Tonks suddenly realized that she was holding on to a total stranger's sleeve and was almost about to let go and go the same way her books did, when the stranger gently grabbed her arm and put her on her feet again.

She didn't find her voice back until several seconds later, when the beating of her heart had subsided a little, and she was able to look up at the stranger and produce a small smile. 'Thanks a lot. I'm so sorry. These things always happen to me.'

The stranger was a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with light brown hair that was greying slightly and friendly, but weary eyes. 'It's allright,' he said, smiling at her. They both leaned down to pick up the fallen books. 'Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts,' he remarked as he dusted off the covers and handed them to her. 'Interesting.'

'I really want to be an Auror,' Tonks said, blushing slightly, but with a defiant edge to her voice at the same time, as if daring the man to laugh at her. But the only thing he did was nod in appreciation. 'A good choice. We can't have enough of those.' He seemed be lost in thought for a moment, then asked, 'Who's teaching DADA at the moment?'

'Don't know. Last year it was Professor Dalrymple, but I heard someone say Professor Quirrell will be coming back.'

'And Severus Snape? Is he still teaching at Hogwarts?'

She looked at him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. 'Yeah, he is. Potions. Seems he'd rather want the DADA job, though. Want me to tell him you said hi?'

The man laughed rather grimly. 'I doubt that would be a good idea. He's never liked me that much.'

'You'd be no exception,' Circe joined in. 'But then, who would actually want to be liked by Snape?' She pulled a disgusted face.

'Well, I, for one, wouldn't mind,' the man said calmly. 'Be careful when you judge others. There's always more to people than meets the eye.'

There was a sudden tension as Circe looked away, obviously not knowing how to reply. The man smiled his tired, friendly smile again, as if to show he'd meant no harm. 'Well, I won't hold you up any longer. Will you be able to make it to the counter without further accidents?'

'I hope so,' said Tonks. 'Thanks again.'

* * *

'Who does he think he is?' Circe burst out as soon as they stood outside. 'Lecturing me like that. He doesn't even know me.' 

'I don't know,' said Tonks carefully. 'But don't you think he had a point? Technically?'

'I'd like to see him try spending five years with Snape as a teacher. And why didn't you say anything? You hate Snape too.'

'Well,_hate_ is a big word…'

'Dislike him.'

'I don't know. I just tend to ignore him, nowadays. I mean, he's just a rather pitiful person who likes being powerful and in control maybe just a little too much. At least, that's what I think.'

'What are you now? His psychiatrist?'

'No, I was just wondering about him and, well, remember that in our first year we'd use to think he was rather cool and took up everything he said as a challenge to become true Potions prodigies – being the annoying little Ravenclaws that we were – and…'

'We_never_ thought Snape was cool,' Circe interrupted her.

'We did, but that doesn't even matter, the point is that, you know, don't you think we're mature enough to try and see a _person_ instead of a _greasy git_?'

'Not if that person _is_ a greasy git.'

'If anyone has a right to say that, it's me! To you, he was always perfectly civil. Relatively.'

'Why on earth are you defending him?' asked Circe heatedly.

'I'm not!' said Tonks in growing annoyance. She hated fighting with Circe even more than she hated fighting in general – eventually it would always reach a point where she couldn't casually shrug things away anymore, or relieve the situation with a joke, a point where she was forced to speak words that were real and painful, the echo of which would be sounding in her head for a long time afterwards. It was so much easier for Circe. To her, the words she spoke were always real, and would never echo. She forced herself to take a deep breath. 'You're just overreacting. As always. I'm just saying it's maybe a little childish to -'

'Childish! Hear who's talking! Thinking you're so cool for ordering Firewhisky, changing your hair all the time to stupid colours like you're some bloody dress-up doll -'

It had definitely reached _that_ point.

'As opposed to the infinitely mature Circe Christopher, who thinks she's so cool for snogging boys and dressing up like a whore?'

Circe's mouth was a straight line, her eyes were flashing. 'You know, I'm not talking to you anymore. You can shove your icecream up your arse.'

'Fine,' said Tonks, breathing heavily. 'Don't talk to me then. I don't care.'

For one long second, they stared at each other, knowing very well they would eventually be friends again, just as always, but denying that fact at the same time, just as always. Then, Circe Disapparated, leaving Tonks angry and hurt and with nothing more than an empty spot to glare at.

'I wasn't defending him,' she muttered, before stomping off to the Apothecary. 'And purple is _not_ stupid.'

* * *

The owl arrived only a couple of hours after she'd come home. Even before she saw the handwriting she knew it'd be from Circe – it always was. Still feeling slightly angry, she unfolded the small piece of parchment. It was a short note. 

_  
Dear Tonks,_

_I'm so sorry. I can't even remember what we were fighting about, really. Guess I was just annoyed by that guy in the bookshop. You were probably right about Snape. I'm not a whore, though, and your hair is not stupid, but I guess we both know that._

_Feel like eating lots of icecream in Diagon Alley tomorrow?_

_Love,_

_Circe_

And then, as she read and reread the note, she felt to her own surprise that tears were welling up in her eyes, and before she knew it she'd dropped the parchment and thrown herself on her bed, where she lay crying for what seemed like a multitude of reasons she didn't even fully understand herself. _Maybe the Firewhisky._

* * *

_**a/n. **Sorry for the uneventfulness of this chapter. Lots of SnapeTonks action coming up. Really. I promise.  
_


End file.
